


Happy Not-Quite-Accidents

by connielotte



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, eventual getting together, frank/claire is not endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connielotte/pseuds/connielotte
Summary: Having just moved up to Edinburgh for grad school, Claire gets some unwanted attention at a pub. Rather than risk telling the truth - her boyfriend is back in London - she goes for the safer option, picks out the biggest guy in the pub, and says she's with him. Lucky for her, one Jamie Fraser plays along.-College AU including but not limited to: med school drama, fake relationship drama, real relationship drama, and rugby.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Frank Randall, Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 53
Kudos: 206





	1. in which claire is safe rather than sorry

**Author's Note:**

> I won't have a solid update schedule for this but I'll get chapters out as soon as I edit them up. Some stuff from canon is reflected in here, but not the whole plot. It's mostly AU. Enjoy!!

It had started out a friendly conversation, more or less. The man was English, like she was, and was also up for school, although not at the same university. Not to mention there was the fact that he looked just enough like Frank did for her to ask if he, by any chance, happened to have a cousin or other relation going for a history doctorate in London.

He hadn’t, not that he knew of, but he also said he was bound to have second and third cousins however many times removed that he wasn’t aware of. Big family, he said. 

But there was something about him, about the way he talked and held himself and looked at her, that made her more and more uncomfortable as the conversation went on. She was beginning to think that coming out for a drink her first weekend in Edinburgh had been a mistake. 

Smiling what she hoped was a passable smile rather than a tight-lipped grimace, she downed the rest of her drink. “It was lovely to meet you, Jonathan, but I think I’m done for the night. I already have quizzes to study for, believe it or not.” 

“Let me walk you to your apartment.” His voice was quiet, but not soft. Slippery, maybe, was a better descriptor. 

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, panic mounting in her. She was usually good at turning men down - lord knows she had enough experience - but she was feeling overwhelmed just at the slightest suggestion he was into her. “I don’t want to cut your night short.” 

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be,” he said, touching a hand to her shoulder. “I’m generally not big on pubs. Lucky me I decided to come out tonight, but, I warn you, it’s a rarity.” 

She shrugged his hand off. “I’m really alright, actually. Thank you, though.”

He watched her for a moment, quiet. 

She wondered if he was drunk, even though he hadn’t been acting it for the whole time they were talking. She added, “I’m sorry if you got the wrong message, but I’m seeing someone right now.” 

“Where is he, Claire?”

Oh, she regretted telling him her name. 

“Back in London? Because-”

“No,” she said sharply, and then floundered. She’d mentioned Frank, but hadn’t said anything about him being her boyfriend. That being said, London was exactly where he was. She wondered what she could possibly do to get out of this, and ran increasingly ridiculous options through her head. It even came to mind for a second to call the police, although there hadn’t been a crime at all, and all she’d accomplish by doing that would be to cause a scene. 

She settled, in a blind panic, on a very old trick, and picked out the biggest man in the pub - which was easy, the guy was stupidly tall - and gestured vaguely towards him. “That’s him there. Excuse me, please.” 

She walked away from Jonathan as quickly as she could, willing herself not to look back and try to determine if he bought it or not. 

She felt shaky, almost, and she still couldn’t put a finger on what about Jonathan had bothered her so much, but she pushed her way through groups of people as politely as she could until she came to stand near the man she’d claimed was her boyfriend. 

It might be enough just to stay near enough to him they’d seem to know each other but not near enough to actually have to talk to him, she reasoned, and she tried to do that in the least conspicuous way she could, until someone put a hand on her arm, and she nearly jumped. 

She turned, and came face to face - face to chest, more realistically - with her “boyfriend.” She pulled her arm sharply out of reach. 

“I meant to ask you,” he said, looking down at his hand for a moment before focusing back on her, “if you’re alright. There’s a chap at the bar who’s been watching you.”

She stared up at him, and searched his face for any malintent. What she found was a dusting of freckles and two very blue eyes and an expression that was, as far as she could tell, as sincere as it was concerned. “I’m fine, thank you, and I’m very aware. I hope you don’t mind, but that chap-” She copied his phrasing, speaking quietly. “-has just been informed that I’m not available because I’m dating you.” 

“Me?” 

He sounded so taken aback she knew it was a mistake to say anything at all. But she was too far in to just bail, so she said, “I’m Claire, and I’ll be leaving in a moment, so you won’t have to deal with me ever again.” 

After a moment, he replied, “Jamie.” A smile was beginning to tug at his mouth, giving him a very boyish look. He cast an eye over towards the bar, and then tucked an arm around her, holding her to his side and wheeling her around to face the handful of other men he’d been talking to earlier. He spoke loudly when he said, “Ian, this is Claire. You’re always bothering me about getting a lass, and here she is.”

Ian, presumably, blinked. Slowly, he said, “Claire. Good to meet you. How’s it you found this one?” He jerked his head up at Jamie. 

Claire shot a glance at Jamie as well, and saw a blank, nervous expression on his face. He wasn’t a very good liar, then. She held out a hand to Ian, and said, “I was looking around up here for graduate and residency programs last summer. I met him then, and that rather made the choice for me. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you sooner, I only just moved up for the year last week.”

Ian shook her hand. He had a warm, solid grip. “Happened fast, eh?”

“Well-” Jamie began. 

“We’ve kept in touch over the summer,” Claire interjected. “I was just saying to Jamie that it’s getting a bit late for me. I think I’ll head home.”

“Aye, we’ll be off now,” Jamie agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, Ian?”

Ian nodded his affirmation. “Home safe, the both of you.” 

“It was lovely to meet you,” Claire told him, and let Jamie guide her towards the door of the pub. She whispered, “Thank you.” 

He leaned his head down next to hers so they could talk quietly, and replied, “Don’t worry about it. Where is it we’re going?”

“I don’t know where you’re going. I’m going home.” It was odd, she noted. When Jonathan had done as little as touch a hand to her arm, she’d felt chilled, but now this stranger had an arm about her waist and was close enough that she could attempt to count the freckles on his cheeks, and she hadn’t once felt safer since moving to Edinburgh.

“Right, and I’ll walk you there, just to be sure.” He said it like he’d already set his mind on it. 

“You really don’t have to.” This was the exact thing she’d been trying to avoid: some stranger walking her home. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d feel a whole lot more secure walking to her apartment at night if she had Jamie with her. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

He held the door of the pub open for her, and followed her outside. 

They stood there together, not moving, in the light of the streetlamps, and Claire noticed that his eyes weren’t just blue, they were also shaped like a cat’s in the most pleasing way. She said, “Really, it’s alright if you want to go back in with your friends. I’ll make it in one piece.”

“Are you sure?” 

Well, no, she wanted to say, not at all. “Yes,” she said. 

“Will you take my number, at least?” He asked it like it was a last ditch attempt at something. “Send me a text when you get home so I know you’re alright.” 

She snorted at that, she couldn’t help herself. It was funny, though. Wandering up to a stranger at a pub, looping him into acting as your boyfriend, and then he actually starts caring about what happens to you. 

“Christ,” he said, wincing. “Did it sound that bad? I’m probably just as- no, I’m probably worse than the man back at the bar.” 

“No, you’re really not,” Claire managed, through laughter. Maybe it was her drink finally kicking in, or maybe it was the relief of feeling safe, but she felt almost giddy. “Are you insinuating that you’re trying to pick me up?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not insinuating anything.” A moment later, he laughed with her, a silly sort of chuckle that only made her laugh harder. 

“I know,” she said, finally. “And yes, I’ll take your number, and yes, I’ll let you know when I’m home safe. You’re free to go tell Ian you haven’t found that girl yet, you’re just being very nice to someone a bit out of her depth.” 

Jamie gave a shrug, and then asked, “Have you really just moved up?”

She nodded. “I just started my graduate program at Saint Margaret.” 

“For?”

“Medicine. Emergency room surgery, particularly,” she answered. “Are you in school?”

“Aye. I’m in foreign policy right now, but-” He shrugged again. “I’ve changed my major about four times. Different things keep catching my eye.” 

Standing there and not quite knowing what to say, Claire realized that she’d very much like to have a real, sit-down conversation with him, maybe over a cup of coffee. She also realized that she very much needed friends here in Edinburgh. “Well,” she settled on, “I’d love to hear about it. Some other time, maybe not this far past midnight.” 

He nodded. “You’ve got my number for that, whenever you have time.” 

“Thanks again for that back there,” Claire blurted out. Usually, she was loath to accept help from anyone. She knew it was somewhat of a fatal flaw; too much pride, that was what it was. But for whatever reason, letting Jamie help her hadn’t felt bad. 

“Don’t worry about it. You get all sorts of odd types down here, it’s best you stay as wary as you are.” He frowned. “But I’m not trying to frighten you, just-”

“I know.” She smiled, and if she wasn’t keeping a handle on herself it would’ve been a much bigger smile. “I’m going now.” 

“Right. You’d best.” 

“Yes. I’d best go,” she echoed, finding his diction - as well as his accent - ridiculously captivating. “Have a good rest of your night.” 

“You as well. Stay safe, Claire.” He held up a hand in a stationary wave. 

“Thank you, Jamie,” she replied, and then she made herself turn away from him and start off down the street to her apartment. 


	2. in which claire talks with two people, and thinks about talking with one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to figure out whether she should text Jamie back, Claire catches up with Frank, long-distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i like all the outlander characters equally  
> me earlier that day: i don't care for frank

To her credit, Claire did let the nice man from the pub know she was alright when she got home that night. Then she promptly got in her own head about it, felt wildly guilty for even talking to him in the first place despite the entire interaction being purely friendly in nature, and didn’t send him another message. The thing was, she knew that Frank would make her feel guilty about it if she told him, so she skipped the telling him and felt guilty all by herself. 

She’d spent the entire week thinking about it, though. About the fact that, really, very few people would’ve played along like Jamie had, and even fewer would’ve been that worried for her. Also about the fact that she really needed friends here, and she certainly wouldn’t find them in her classes. 

Most of her classmates were far wealthier than she was, and had also lived in Edinburgh for at least a good part of their lives. It created an odd sort of divide, and one that, in all honesty, she wasn’t interested in bridging. They could keep to themselves for all she cared, and it seemed like that was what they’d be doing, for the most part. 

There was one person she’d met at school that she didn’t mind chatting with before or after class, and that was Joe. A year younger than her and absolutely brilliant, he’d finished his undergrad early and came overseas from America for his graduate program. He had a thoughtful, easy way of talking that made her feel like she wasn’t alone. 

When she asked if he’d be up for a study session, he said yes. 

They were sitting in one of the private rooms of the university library basement, neither feeling they knew each other well enough yet to hold the session at their apartments. 

“I have moderate knee pain on the right side,” Claire was saying, looking down to reference one of the textbooks for the advanced physiology diagnoses class they were both in. “It acts up when I run, but also sometimes when I’m standing still, or walking.” 

“Age?” Joe asked. He said everything pensively, like he’d spent time mulling it over. 

“Fifteen.”

“Gender?”

“I’m a healthy, very physically fit young man,” Claire answered, and then laughed under her breath. She wasn’t sure if Joe was really a person she could joke around with yet. He was serious, but, then, he was also easy-going. 

“I would say…” He steepled his fingers and pushed them under his chin. “Osgood-Schlatter.”

“Yes,” Claire answered, still smiling. 

“Oh, really?” He smiled too.

She nodded, and passed the book to him. 

“Alright, let me find something.” He mused over the book for a few moments, flipping pages. 

“Joe,” she said, after a moment’s silence. “Say I met someone at a pub.”

“Mm?” He was paying half-attention to her words, if that, focused on finding a set of symptoms for her to diagnose. 

“And he was very nice, and he gave me his number,” she continued. 

“Right.” 

“Well, should I- do something?” It was frustratingly difficult to talk about. “I don’t want a boyfriend, I- I have a boyfriend, I told you about Frank. But I feel like I can’t just leave it.”

“Answer me this: I come into your office with chronic lower back pain, numbness around the lumbar and sometimes along the arms and hands. I’m a fifty-four year old woman. What’s my issue?” Joe looked up from the book, watching her through his glasses. 

“Well, what’s your physical condition? How regularly do you exercise?” Claire asked, trying to guide her mind toward dredging up a diagnosis. 

“I’m in standard shape,” Joe replied. “I don’t run or do any rigorous exercise but I go for walks and do yoga on the weekends.” He smiled at that. 

Maybe, she realized, even as she found her mind torn between the two questions she was balancing, she did have a friend here in Edinburgh. “Well, it sounds like a nerve problem,” she came to. “Is your profession one that requires you to sit still for long periods of time, like an office job?”

“Yes, but I don’t think that’s causing it. I don’t get sore during a work day, and stretching and massage don’t alleviate my symptoms.” 

Claire rubbed a hand over her forehead. “Nerve problem. That’s all I’ve got. Is it- I don’t know. Is it sciatica?”

Joe shook his head. “You didn’t ask about previous diagnoses.”

Claire let out a sigh. “Well, what are her previous diagnoses, Joe?”

“Osteoarthritis, and past x-rays show general wear and tear and small vertebrae shifts.” Joe was smiling this small smile, like there was really nothing he’d rather do that practice diagnoses.

Well, now she felt like an idiot. “Lumbar stenosis, isn’t it?”

“Exactly.” Joe passed the book over to her. “And I think maybe your question about your man from the pub might be better to ask Frank. I don’t think I’m qualified.”

“He’s not my man from the pub,” Claire snapped. “He is  _ a _ man from the pub.”

Joe’s smile grew a little bit. “I’d still call Frank. If you’re so worried about it you’re asking me for advice, it’s a bigger deal than just making a friend. Unless- you don’t check with your boyfriend before you make friends, do you? Because then I’d be-”

“No, no,” Claire said quickly, cutting that line of inquiry off at the root. “It’s not at all like that. I think I’m just feeling- disconnected, that’s it. I don’t know anyone here, so it all seems strange.” 

“You know me.” 

She let out a breath, and smiled. “I know you. Thanks, Joe.” After a beat, she focused on the textbook. “Right. So, I’m a thirty year old with shooting pain in the wrist. Left side. It’s difficult for me to position my hand for x-rays, and…”

* * *

Later, Claire lay in bed back home in her apartment, and stared at her phone. She could either call Frank - and actually commit to a conversation instead of the routine, quick check-ins they’d been making since she left two weeks ago - or finally get back to Jamie. 

She opened her messages app, and stared at the two bubbles of text in the conversation, hers, dated a week ago, saying,  _ back home safe. thanks again,  _ and Jamie’s, sent a few minutes after hers arrived, replying,  _ Very glad to hear it. _

She held her breath, typed out,  _ i’m not usually this bad at keeping in touch. if you want to go for coffees i’ll pay. i owe you, _ and sent it. 

Then she immediately closed out of the app and called Frank. Ticked both her boxes, then. Her uncle always had called her an overachiever. 

“Claire?” When he picked up, Frank sounded surprised. 

“Hi,” she replied. It was good to hear his voice. 

“You didn’t text me, I didn’t know you’d be calling.”

She laughed. “Do you really want to become the sort of couple that schedules their phone calls?”

“Fair point.” He was laughing too. 

She said, on impulse, “I miss you.”

“Well, it’s only been two weeks.” He was using his teacher voice, the voice he used when he practiced his seminars for undergraduates on her. 

“Still.” 

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, I suppose. I think it’ll get easier. We’re just not used to it yet,” he assured her. 

“How’s your thesis going?” she prompted, because she didn’t want to talk about relationship things anymore. She felt rather crushed by his reply, really. He hadn’t said he missed her back. He did, of course, she knew he did. He just- was focusing on consoling her rather than commiserating with her. That was it. 

“You know, Claire, it boggles the mind how I could’ve sworn I knew every single thing about the sociopolitical history of our great British empire, and yet here I am, and there’s still more research to be done,” Frank answered immediately, ready, as always, to talk about his field of study. “I got access just the other day to a collection of primary documents - it was a private collector, but the Dean at Oxford knew the man, and you know how I’m one of his favourites. Import and export records out of Suffolk. Almost complete records, too, from 1773 all the way through 1778.”

Claire made a noise of appreciation, and hoped it didn’t come across as a groan of boredom, although that was far closer to what she was feeling. She supported Frank wholeheartedly, and therefore supported his studies by default, but she couldn’t find it in her to get truly interested about any of the material that got him giddy with the excitement of discovery. 

“I know,” Frank agreed - apparently she’d nailed appreciation, then - and added, “The collector invited me back whenever I need direct references.”

“That’s wonderful,” she commented. 

“I thought it was,” he admitted. “Being around like minded people - you get a bit of it in your Bachelor’s and Master’s, but nothing like this - it’s just- it’s heady, that’s what it is. I feel like I’m part of an old institution, you know? Carrying on a tradition.” 

Frank and his traditions. She almost laughed, but didn’t. This was just so terribly on brand for him. “You are part of an old institution,” she reminded him. “How old is Oxford, exactly?”

“Oldest university in the world.” He gave a little laugh. “The English speaking world, that is. But you know what I’m saying.” 

“Yes, I do.” She sighed. “Are they still having you teach?”

“Yes. Yeah, they are. I’m on track to go straight into a professor’s position once I get my doctorate, actually.” 

“That’s amazing.” She checked the time - her uncle’d always insisted she had a wristwatch when she was younger and not just a phone for timekeeping, a habit she’d brought into adulthood - and noted that she’d have to get to bed soon if she wanted to feel awake or even alive tomorrow. 

“Thanks, darling.” That was Frank; old blue-blood charm, and calling his girlfriend ‘darling’ at age twenty-six. 

“Of course.” She sighed. “I’ve got to get to bed soon, but promise me we’ll talk again tomorrow.” 

“I swear on my life.” He said it with a little chuckle. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “Goodnight, Frank.” 

“Sleep well. I love you.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. “I love you too.” 

She hung up, set her phone down on her bedside table, and only a good moment later did she realize that nearly the entire conversation had been about him, and he hadn’t asked her anything, not once. 


	3. in which claire goes on a not-date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie finally find a time to meet up for that coffee she promised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamie's such a goofball smh

It had taken an entire week to find a solid hour that was free in both Claire and Jamie’s calendars. At first it was frustrating, but as more and more times wouldn’t work out, it became something she could laugh at, and then it became something of a way of getting to know him. Because whenever she proposed a time for that cup of coffee, he’d give a detailed answer for why that time couldn’t work, along with a lot of apologies. 

Among the excuses she’d heard over the week, a choice selection included: he was teaching a private lesson, he promised he’d meet his uncle for dinner and he had to block out a fair bit of time for travel, and he had rugby practice. Honestly, it was amazing he had enough hours in the day to fit in everything he got up to. 

But they’d found a time late on Sunday afternoon, nearly exactly two weeks after they first met. 

Claire’d meant to get there early, or at least politely on time, but she’d found herself so unreasonably nervous about it that she’d left her apartment late, and then rushed the whole way there. When she finally reached the little shop, she was out of breath and a bit sweaty and not to mention almost ten minutes late. 

Of course, he was sitting there waiting for her, and had presumably been waiting the entire ten minutes. 

Seeing Jamie in the light was very different from seeing him across the dim, crowded floor of a pub. He had the reddest hair Claire’d ever seen, for one. And he smiled that same smile, as soon as he saw her, and that looked a good deal better in full daylight as well. 

In contrast, she figured she looked a right mess. But she sat down at the little cafe table opposite him anyway, and managed, “I’m sorry; time got away from me. I hope you weren’t waiting long.” 

“No, not at all,” he said quickly. “Claire.” 

“Jamie,” she replied, not knowing why he’d just said her name. 

“You haven’t had a tour of the city yet, have you,” he guessed. 

“I can’t say I have.” 

“Alright, that’ll be my honor, then.” He grinned. “I remember when I first moved down it was a bit tough, but when Ian- you met Ian- when Ian showed me about the city, that was when I started feeling like I had a handle on it.”

There were certain people who had some trick to them that made it impossible not to smile when they were talking, and Jamie, as Claire was realizing very quickly, was one of those people. “I’d love that,” she agreed. “Where is it you moved from?”

“The middle of nowhere, really. Think Inverness, then go a few hours inland, and that’ll be it,” he said, squinting one eye as he held up a hand and mapped it out in the air in front of him, the gestures too vague to mean anything to Claire. He dropped his hand, and his smile had become a bit sheepish. “I’ll tell you now I was raised a farm boy.” 

“Better than me,” Claire returned, leaning back in her seat. “I wasn’t raised anywhere. My uncle was an anthropologist, and he was always moving to be at new research sites. I moved with him.”

He was watching her intently. “That’s sure to be a hundred stories just right there on its own.”

She resisted the urge to laugh, or to brush it off and say it was nothing. What she said was: “Maybe.” 

“What would you like for a drink?”

She lifted a shoulder in a haughty manner and put on her most posh voice, because, completely unwarrantedly, it felt completely natural to joke around with Jamie, and she said, “I’ll order my own coffee, thank you very much.” 

He laughed, tipping his head towards the counter and saying, “After you, then.” 

A few minutes later they were both settled back at the table, and Claire had her hands around a warm mug. 

“I will say we’ve got a bit of a coincidence going,” Jamie said, after a moment of watching the steam rise from his cup. “My uncle’s the one who took care of me, too.” 

“Look at us. A perfect mirror image.” She snorted at the thought, because, in terms of actual looks along with almost everything else, they really couldn’t be on further opposite ends of the spectrum. 

Jamie shrugged, and then he said, “You’re in medicine, you said. When you- when we first met.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going for my doctorate now.” She felt like she was bragging. “I’ll be starting an internship in a month or so, and then we’ll see.” 

“Aye, I’m sure we will. What made you go for surgery? Emergency room, you said?”

She nodded, and honestly, that was just wonderful. She was just hoping a major personality flaw would turn up soon, because so far, Jamie’d been inhumanly perfect. Not that she’d ever, ever, ever say that, or even think it. She mentally kicked herself. 

“Ah- yes, emergency room. I just can’t- I don’t feel-” She could’ve easily pulled out a catchall answer, but here she was, admitting to one of the things she held closest to her heart. “I feel stagnant unless I’m helping someone. And I can’t work unless I’m under a wild lot of pressure.” She tried to laugh. “Perfect combination for a doctor.  _ Et voilà. _ ”

“Well,  _ Madame, nous avons de la chance qu'il y ait des gens comme vous dans le monde, _ ” Jamie said, shifting into the new language seamlessly.

Claire realized then that she really ought to just tell him straightly that she was seeing someone else, because she genuinely couldn’t tell if he was just being nice or if he was flirting with her. Was telling someone the world was lucky to have her just something he said to everyone pursuing a medical career? “French,” she commented, steering them towards a different topic. 

“Aye, French. I started university with a major in French, actually,” he confessed, “but I spent a year there when I was younger and picked it up mostly that way. I changed it, anyway. The major.” 

“To…” Claire tried to recall. “Foreign policy?”

Jamie nodded. “Or- well, not really. To history and folklore, then to business - that was my uncle’s doing - and then to foreign policy. I got there eventually.”

She looked at him, and she knew that he was a good few years younger than her, and that it was on her to shut this down now. “Jamie,” she blurted out. “I don’t- you’re a wonderful conversationalist, and I’m really, really grateful for what you did for me, but I just- before this goes on any further, I want you to know I’m not available. I’m seeing someone, down in London.” 

Jamie was quiet for just a moment, and then asked, in his regular, good natured tone, “Is that someone alright with you going for coffee with friends?” 

She raised an eyebrow, and knew that everything was going to be okay. “Who said we were friends?”

“Oh, well-” He looked down at his hands in a silly, overdone way, so she’d know he wasn’t being fully serious. “Since you were so insistent you owed me something, lass, I thought the least you could do was consider me that.” 

She was about to make a joke back, but then it settled in, and it felt unbelievably good to hear someone say, point blank, that he’d like to be her friend. That he  _ was _ her friend, even. She hadn’t picked up on how lonely she’d been until now, realizing how not-lonely she suddenly felt. She did manage a little, “If you insist.” 

“I do. Although- there is one other thing.” He’d pressed his lips together into a little frown. “The night we met, before I got back inside to Ian, he’d told my sister about you, and she told our uncle. I could just make up a story about how you dumped me, but…”

“But what?” Claire found herself vaguely amused. Serves him right for helping her. 

“But it’d kill my pride, Claire,” he said, looking up at her with terribly sad eyes. He was still over-acting, just slightly, still playing a bit of a joke.

“So?”

“So, would you please come to my rugby match this Tuesday?” He was smiling again. “First match of the season. Just so I don’t look a fool in front of my family.” 

“I’m not a sports person,” she confessed. Of course she’d go; she’d do anything for an excuse not to study. She was just drawing it out; conversation with Jamie was so fun. 

Jamie was still watching her. “Rugby’s not your typical sport, either, lass.” 

“Jamie- what’s your last name?”

“Fraser?” He said it quizzically, like he wasn’t sure where she was going with the question. 

“Jamie Fraser, don’t you dare try to mansplain rugby to me,” she said firmly, with as much conviction as she could pull together. She was trying very hard not to laugh. “That being said, I will come to your match so your uncle doesn’t think your girlfriend dumped you.”

His smile widened immediately into a grin that hung rather lopsidedly on his face. “You’re a goddess of charity, have you ever been told that?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “Usually I’m not this charitable.” And then she was grinning as well. 

The rest of the conversation passed so easily, and so pleasantly, that Claire was shocked to look back and see that the last strains of daylight had faded from the cafe windows, and it was dark outside. She had agreed to forsake her study session tomorrow in order to get a proper tour of the city, and similarly on Tuesday as well, to go to that stupid rugby match. And the thing was, she wasn’t even irritated about it. She wanted to spend time on both, quite wholeheartedly. 

She watched Jamie tell the story he was telling, something about horses, and focused on how his face seemed to forget it wasn’t really happening again, and then would remember in sudden bursts how he wasn’t reliving it, just retelling it. His brows would drop low over his eyes, and he’d get so concentrated on the patch of air in front of him, where he was visualizing it, only to, once every few moments, look back at her and smile, like he was coming up for a breath. 

When he was finished, she asked, “Does your uncle still keep horses?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, of course he does. Six, at last count. He can’t ride anymore, he has a- problem with his bones that keeps him from it. He still loves them, though.” 

The medical part of Claire switched on, and she had to hold herself back from asking more about the bone issue. Way to freak someone out, Beauchamp, she told herself. Fixate on his uncle’s medical health. It wasn’t her fault she was studying the osteo chapters of her diagnoses textbook. What she said instead was, “I rode a tiny bit here and there with my uncle when I was little.”

“You should come up and ride some time,” Jamie offered. “My family’s a bit much to handle, but they won’t follow you out too far from the house.” He laughed. “Once you’re in the fields, you’re safe.”

She looked down at her empty cup, considering it. “I’ll keep that in mind. Listen, Jamie, I should head home. I have two quizzes I should probably be studying for.” 

“Right. Of course,” Jamie said, nodding. “Tell me how those go, will you?”

“My quizzes?” She snorted, holding back a laugh. Why he cared was utterly beyond her, to the point where it was funny. 

“Aye.” He looked serious, though. 

“Sure, if you really want to know.”

“I do.” 

Something shifted, then; Claire felt it. It was just that she’d been the only one caring about how she did for the longest time. She had Frank, of course, but that was more her caring about his passions than vice versa. Now, though, she wasn’t the only one who wanted to know the scores she got on her quizzes. She swallowed. “I’ll let you know, then.”

“Good.” Jamie smiled. “And I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Oh, for my tour of Edinburgh,” she recalled, standing from her seat. “Yes, sure thing. And Tuesday, for your rugby match.” She watched Jamie get up as well, and then push in her chair for her. It ticked her off a little bit, but she felt like she wasn’t quite at the point in knowing him where she could tell him off for it. But, then, who was she to wait when it came to telling people off? So she said, “Don’t let me catch you holding the door for me too.” 

Jamie stared at her for a second like he was trying to catch her meaning, and then shook his head. “No, if you want to get the door this time, lass, I’ll get it next time. We can switch off.” 

And honestly, what a graceful way to handle it. She smiled. “Sounds like a deal.” And she did get the door, and then stood opposite Jamie a few paces from the doorway. 

The weather was so flighty, and while it had been a rather warm day, wind tore down the street now, making Claire hug her arms around her ribs. “Have a good night, Jamie,” she said.

“Bring a coat next time you plan on staying out after dark,” Jamie told her, squinting up at the cloudy sky. “If you don’t bring a raincoat, that is.” 

“Scotland and its rain, hm?” She let her hands fall back down to her sides, trying not to show how cold she felt. 

“Aye. Lucky us we’re not in some of it now.” He handed her a knitted something that had spent the afternoon hanging from the back of his chair in the shop.

She unfolded it, and found that it was a scarf. “I don’t need this,” she said. “Thank you, though.”

“I don’t need it either. And it’d be such a trouble to take it back.” He took a step away from her, to emphasize the uncrossable distance of about a meter. He shook his head sadly. “You’ll just have to keep it and give it back tomorrow.”

“Jamie,” she said reproachfully, but she was smiling. She didn’t throw terms of any kind around lightly, but she was feeling like it was a bit of a miracle, finding someone like him to be her friend. 

“It’s just too far,” he said, stretching out a hand as if to reach her, and falling short. “See? No, you’ll have to keep it.” 

“If you insist.” She balled it back up and held onto it. “Bye, Jamie.” 

“See you, Claire.” He had that silly grin back on his face. 

Claire waited until she’d turned a corner on her way back to her apartment to unwind the scarf again and fix it around her neck. It wasn’t much, really, but it definitely kept the chill out. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr [@connielotte](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/connielotte)


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